


The Mystery of Stark Lodge

by nehemiah



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Agatha Christie - Freeform, The Lannister Boys, whodunit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:51:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nehemiah/pseuds/nehemiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With deep, deep apologies to both George and Agatha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Murder

I came back from the war maimed, and struggled to find work in peacetime. My father could probably have found something for me, but I hated being dependent on the old man. Fortunately for me, Tyrion stepped in and offered me work with him. Being an assistant to a private inquiry agent may not sound like exciting work, but it had its perks, and I‘d always been fond of my brother. My only regret was that it kept me in town for most of the year, and I rarely had time for sport.

Consequently, when our brother-in-law invited us to a weekend of shooting on the moors, I accepted with enthusiasm. What I hadn’t expected was that Tyrion would want to come with me. He’d never been the outdoor type.

‘I really wouldn’t have thought this would be your sort of thing, Tyrion,’ I ventured, as the train rattled its way north. Outside the trees were giving way to snow-dusted moors. It was bitterly cold, but clear – excellent shooting weather.

He looked up from his book and gave me a gentle smile. ‘It’s true that I don’t share the peculiar enthusiasm you and Robert have for slaughtering helpless creatures. Still, I am cursed with an appreciation of the finer things in life, and a properly cooked and seasoned northern grouse is one of the few things that would tempt me this far from civilisation.’

Then Tyrion gave me an appraising look. ‘I understand our dear sister won’t be joining us?’

‘Well, no.’ I shifted uncomfortably. ‘Cersei and Robert aren’t spending too much time together these days. Sleeping in separate beds, too. So I understand,’ I added.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said vaguely, turning his attention to the landscape outside. ‘Whose company _can_ I look forward to enjoying?’

‘Stannis is coming,’ I said. ‘Though I doubt anyone has ever enjoyed _his_ company. Apparently he’s bringing his daughter down this year. You two might get on. I understand she’s a schoolteacher. Stannis wanted her to make her own way in the world.‘

‘A most modern attitude,’ noted Tyrion absently.

‘Pity Joffrey couldn’t adopt it,’ I said disapprovingly. ‘He’ll be there, of course, with his wife.’ Our eldest nephew was a wastrel, plain and simple, whose only talent was spending money. I’d had a bellyful of him back in the days before the war, when I ‘d spent a lot of time around Robert’s family.

His wife was a sweet enough girl, though. Sansa’s family had endured a great deal of misfortune, but she’d shown considerable pluck adapting to her new circumstances. I’d often thought she was a better match than Joff deserved.

‘Jaime,’ Tyrion said, tapping the page in front of him. ‘Remind me to send this recipe down to the kitchens when we arrive. You must ‘bag’ me at least four birds. That will be enough for my purposes.’

‘A grouse shoot isn’t a restaurant, old man,’ I said. ‘You can’t just place an order. It all depends on –‘

‘I have every faith in your abilities,’ said Tyrion, and I smiled. I’d always hated being the object of pity, but Tyrion always knew the right line to take. I suppose, for him, it came from experience.

Our conversation was interrupted by the guard making his way down the carriage toward us.

‘Winterfell!’ called the old man. ‘Winterfell, next station! All passengers for Moleton and Deepwood, change here!’ We hastened to gather our valises.

 

*

The weather was as brisk as it had looked from the train windows. Robert had promised a car at the station. As we made our way out, breath misting in the air, we were greeted by a tall blond youth lounging against a pristine Hillman; Joffrey had come to collect us in person.

‘My favourite uncles,’ he said mockingly. ‘The dwarf and the cripple. The great sleuth and his loyal dogsbody.’

‘Now look here,’ I began, but the boy just waved a hand.

‘No, it’s true enough. I know I prefer you both to Stannis. I’m sure he runs to the mirror and smiles first thing in the morning, just to get it over with. Come on now, Father’s expecting you.’

‘Lovely car,’ I said grudgingly.

‘Ah,’ he said, looking abashed. ‘Well, truth be told, it’s only rented for the weekend. Sansa asked me to let the old car go. Said I was risking my neck every time I got behind the wheel. She does worry so.’ He gave a weak little smile. ‘Let’s get going, then.’

We made good time through the lanes and drew up at the gates of the estate around noon. Winterfell House itself had burned down back when the Starks had their troubles. Stark Lodge was what people called the gatehouse, which had survived the fire. It was a comfortable enough place, but certainly too small to accommodate a whole shooting party. Most of us had taken rooms at the Grey Wolf Inn, in a village a few miles away.

‘Sorry we can’t put you up in the lodge,’ Joffrey called over his shoulder. ‘You can use the telephone to confirm your reservations at the Wolf.’

The car purred along the drive, and we passed the shell of the old house in the distance. Tyrion leaned forward to our nephew and said ‘I thought you were planning to rebuild the place?’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Joff vaguely. ‘Bad time to start a major building project. I told Sansa we should wait until the markets calmed down a little.’

‘An unfortunate family, the Starks,’ said Tyrion, eyes still fixed on the ruin.

There was no disputing it. The father, executed for high treason; the mother and the eldest son, murdered; and their home destroyed. The younger sister, a would-be actress, had fled to Europe years earlier to escape the ‘Stark Curse’, leaving Sansa all alone. Through her marriage, Stark Lodge had passed to the Baratheons.

‘They got what they deserved,’ said Joff, guiding the car to a halt in front of the lodge. ‘Besides, Sansa was anything but unfortunate. Ah!’ He opened his door and climbed out, and we saw the young Mrs Baratheon trotting down the steps to greet him. She was tall and well-made, dressed in a bold red coat that accented her striking auburn hair. They kissed warmly and made to go inside.

I helped Tyrion out of the car and we stood to regard the scene for a moment. The drive was full of vehicles; we must have been among the last to arrive. Guests and servants were milling in small groups on the steps.

‘Lannister!’ boomed a voice behind us. Our brother-in-law stood, huge, red-faced, and effusive; he gave me a slap on the shoulder that almost knocked me over. ‘Finally made it up, eh? Don’t go far, we’ll be setting off soon. Where’s that damned gamekeeper got to? WATERS!’ Robert had a voice that could have carried across the ocean. A burly young fellow came in answer to the call. ‘Two more guns here.’

‘One more,’ corrected Tyrion. ‘I won’t be shooting.’

Robert looked down at my brother as if noticing him for the first time. ‘Suit yourself, I’m sure,’ he snorted. ‘One gun, then, Waters.’

 

*

Everyone was wrapped up against the cold, but out there on the moors, you could really feel the wind cutting at your cheeks. The collar of my greatcoat wouldn’t stop flapping around my neck.

‘I’ve changed my mind, brother,’ Tyrion said, rubbing his hands together furiously. ‘No delicacy could be worth this.’

‘Oh, perk up,’ I complained. ‘It’s only for a few hours. You’ll be eating your precious grouse by this time tomorrow.’

Behind us, Sansa had been watching with some amusement. ‘Mr Lannister,’ she said with a shy smile, ‘won’t you be joining the rest of the men?’

‘Call me Tyrion,’ he said gallantly. ‘And… no. I am no sportsman, madam. I merely came to support my brother’s endeavours.’

‘Oh! Then we ladies will be fortunate enough to have you all to ourselves,’ she said courteously. ‘Have the two of you met Shireen?’

Stannis’ daughter was a dark-haired young woman of similar age to Sansa. Not as pretty as her cousin, I thought critically - she had a poor complexion and rather large ears. All the same, she seemed more agreeable than her father.

‘Pleasure,’ I said, holding out a hand. We talked among ourselves for a while, but I knew that I had no need to worry about Tyrion. Entertaining women had always been one of his gifts.

Robert blustered up, and I could see he’d already been drinking. He almost bowled Shireen over. ‘Bah!’ he exclaimed, ignoring a darker-than-usual glare from his brother. ‘Too many damn women around here. Come on then, everyone who’s coming.’

Tyrion and I exchanged a sardonically over-formal handshake, and I promised that I’d do my best for him. The men began making their way across to the butts, leaving the observers in a loose huddle by the road.

‘Good luck, papa!’ called Shireen. Stannis half-turned and gave her a single wave. It was probably the most expressive gesture I’d ever seen him make.

The whistle sounded, and the beaters began working their way through the brush. We separated into groups and took our positions. Soon enough, the sound of gunfire was echoing across the moor, and clouds of white smoke were drifting between the hides. I had learned to shoot with my left, and my right arm was still steady enough to use as a rest. Even with my injury, I was a better shot than most. It didn’t take me long to bag three of Tyrion’s four grouse.

I was sharing a hide with Stannis. He was a careful shooter; he held his gun close, a little too tightly for my liking, but his aim was unerring. He didn’t give so much as a grunt of satisfaction with each target hit. He was a chilly man, no doubt.

Hitting half the marks, but making twice as much noise, was Joffrey in the butt immediately to our right. He was sharing the space with one of his terrible chums, and whooping with triumph every time a bird went spinning down to the ground.

I suddenly came over ill-at-ease, and decided to change positions. I muttered some excuse to Stannis about wanting to find a better overlook, and trudged upfield to the next nearest hide. This one was occupied by Robert, who I thought would at least be more genial company. It wasn’t long before I reconsidered this assumption. He was belabouring young Waters again as I approached, and I couldn’t help overhearing the tenor of their conversation.

‘- three hundred would be enough, sir. She’s a sweet girl, and, begging your pardon, it’s not like you’d miss such a small sum.’

‘And how the blazes would it look to the world if I gave my gamekeeper a fat cheque, out of the blue? You want to get wed, it’s no concern of mine. You forget your place, boy. Get back to your work. Go and babysit Joffrey, make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.’

‘Of him and me, I know which one’s the bastard’, scowled Gendry, but made to do as he was told. He almost bumped into me on his way out of the hide.

‘Pardons, sir,’ he grunted, and loped off across the ground.

‘Lannister!,’ declared Robert as I approached. ‘Come to see how it’s done, eh? Bit harder than shooting peasants in your bloody war, I expect.’ He was flushed, and I guessed he’d been paying frequent visits to his hip flask. That might explain why he was missing almost all of his shots, which in turn might explain his dark mood.

‘Steady on, old man,’ I murmured. It felt uncomfortably like the old days when I’d worked for the old brute. He missed another shot, and muttered about the sight on his gun being crooked. It wasn’t long before his thoughts turned to his brother.

‘Hah, that pious old bore’s face. Mind you, things must have come to a pretty pass for them if the daughter has to teach school for a living. Still, probably easier than finding her a husband, eh? D’you see the size of the girl’s ears?’ I clenched my jaw. I’d never liked to hear a woman insulted. I tried to concentrate on what was in front of me, and took aim at another bird. ‘If only each one of these birds was your sister, eh?’ He went on. ‘Bang, bang. And every bloody Romeo she’s opened her legs for! Bang!’

I’m really not certain what happened next. My bird suddenly veered to one side, and as I leaned to track its flight, I must have lost my balance, and pulled the trigger by accident. To cut a long story short, my pellet somehow ended up in Robert’s foot.

‘You bloody fool!’ he roared, purple-faced, hopping one his good leg. ‘Someone get this idiot away from me! What was I thinking, inviting a bloody cripple on a game shoot?’

‘I truly am _most_ terribly sorry,’ I said. ‘Perhaps it _would_ be best if I called it a day.’

 

*

The Baratheons had laid on an impressive spread back at the Lodge. Sansa was a gracious hostess, and the housemaid, Miss Poole, was making regular circuits with a tray of drinks. Off the main hall was the gun room, and through the open adjoining door we could see Robert slumped in a great chair, his bandaged foot propped up on a pouffe. He looked more short-tempered than usual.

Tyrion had been sniffling and shivering in the car the whole journey back to the lodge, muttering darkly about how susceptible he was to colds. He’d taken up position by the log fire and seemed quite wrapped up in his own suffering. I accepted a drink, and tried to cheer my brother up with conversation about the party.

‘Looks like Robert and Joff are arguing about something. Must be important, they’re doing it in whispers.’ He only nodded disinterestedly. ‘Oh dear. Joff stormed off. Now… Stannis and Shireen are gathering their coats and hats. They’re getting ready to leave.’

Tyrion looked up with a start. ‘Wait a moment! Are you saying we are allowed to _leave_? Then why in the world are we-’ he bit off the end of the sentence when Shireen approached to bid us farewell.

‘Off already?’ I asked politely.

‘I’m afraid so. Father wants to get back, and I have class work to prepare. It was a pleasure to meet you both.’ She gave me a smile, and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘And… excellent shooting, earlier. If you hadn’t done it, someone else would.’

I bowed and wished them a safe journey. Tyrion managed a hoarse ‘madam’, and turned his attention back to the fire.

Joffrey breezed past us, and I caught him by the arm.

‘How’s your father?’ I enquired.

‘As well as can be expected. It’s a dreadful pity you didn’t aim six feet higher.’ He shook off my arm with a grunt.

‘Are you spending the night here?’

‘Some chance. I have to get back to London.’ Joff pursed his lips. ‘I have some… business to attend to in town.’ He disappeared up the staircase without further ceremony.

 

 

*

 

On my brother’s insistence, we were back at the Wolf by four, and found our rooms quite comfortable. I changed into my evening attire, but Tyrion was in no shape to go down for dinner. He’d donned his pyjamas and taken to bed.

‘Well, that was a disappointing day,’ I said, fastening my tie.

‘Oh, Jaime. You stand there lamenting poor sport while your own brother lies dying of a mortal chill! How can you be so insensitive?’

I smiled. Tyrion was always the dramatic sort. ‘Just take it easy, old fellow. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.’

He buried himself in the sheets and said nothing more.

I wanted to give Tyrion some peace, so after dinner I took myself through to the snug to nurse a few brandies. I made polite small talk with a few of Robert’s other guests, and was thinking of going back upstairs to check on my brother, when I heard a tremendous ruckus outside.

A moment later, the doors were thrown open. It was Waters the gamekeeper, of all people!

‘There’s been a killing,’ he gasped. ‘Master Robert’s been murdered.’


	2. The Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Lannister's on the case.

I vaulted up the steps three at a time and burst into our room.

‘You won’t believe it,’ I told Tyrion in a state of some excitement. ‘There’s been a murder!’

He stirred and sat up in bed with a theatrical groan. ‘A murder? Now? Why do you torment a sick man with such nonsense?’

‘It’s not nonsense, Tyrion! Robert’s been killed.’

I saw a familiar light come into my brother’s eyes. ‘Who told you this?’

‘Why, it was the gamekeeper. He came all the way down from the lodge to the village police station.’

Tyrion’s brow furrowed at once, then he emitted another groan and sank back into his pillows. ‘Why must this happen now, the day the great Tyrion Lannister is unable to stir himself from his bed, plagued with headaches and chills? The criminal must be rejoicing in his good fortune!’

‘Don’t despair, Tyrion,’ I said boldly. ‘You’re not the only detective in the family.’

He gave me a sharp look. ‘ _You_ wish to carry out an investigation?’ I thought his expression was a little too sceptical. Then he softened and gave a weary nod. ‘Why not? You must have learned by now how I operate. Go to it, then, Jaime. I only ask that you report to me _at every stage_.’

‘I don’t think you need to watch me as closely as that,’ I complained, but I gave my consent, seeing no reason to unnecessarily vex an afflicted man.

I had to admit that I was excited. Perhaps it was because of Joffrey’s needling, but I felt determined to make headway with the case on my own account, and show Tyrion what I was capable of. At such a late hour, it was hard to know where to start. As luck would have it, though, Waters the gamekeeper was still downstairs in the bar. I decided to quiz him expertly.

‘Terrible business,’ I said casually, taking a stool next to him. ‘Didn’t the police want you up at the house?’

‘No, sir,’ he replied. ‘But they said I wasn’t to go too far from here, if you takes my meaning. They’ve sent for a detective, special. He’ll most likely be wanting to talk to me in the morning.’ The man looked utterly morose.

‘So you didn’t see the foul deed, or catch a glimpse of the killer?’

‘Well, no. I live in a cottage on the grounds, see. I set off down the path to the lodge about six, just so’s to see if the master needed any more jobs done. Then the door opens, and I see Jeyne running towards me screaming blue murder. She said the master’s been killed, and I needs to get down to the village to fetch the police.’

‘Wait a moment,’ I said. ‘She sent you all the way down to the village for help… but isn’t there a telephone at Stark Lodge?’

‘Aye,’ replied the gamekeeper. ‘That occurred to me, once I stopped to think about it. Jeyne was a bit overexcited, I suppose. Not to be wondered at, really.’

That made sense, but the fact I’d noticed the discrepancy at all clearly showed that my deductive mind was purring like an engine. I booked a car to take me to Stark Lodge first thing in the morning, to see what else I could find.

 

*

It was another clear day, but it looked like the morning mist would take some time to clear. Outside the lodge, on the steps where the guests had been chatting convivially just a day before, I had a surprise. The promised detective had arrived – and it was none other than our old acquaintance, Inspector Slynt of the Watch.

It looked like he was on his way out. He spotted me and gave me a typically oily smile.

‘Captain Lannister, isn’t it? Where’s the little man?’

‘In bed with ‘flu,’ I said shortly. ‘I’m here own my own account. What do you make of it?’ Technically, I had no right to be there, but I felt an air of confidence might help me skate over those cracks. And, after all, I was a relative of the dead man.

Slynt rubbed his jowls thoughtfully. ‘The only people in the house were the dead man, the daughter-in-law, and a housemaid. I just got through interviewing the lady.’

‘Have you talked to the maid?’

‘I wanted to, but she’s vanished. Miss Poole gave a statement to the constable on the scene last night, but by this morning, she was gone. The lady says she’d taken to bed early, with the shock and all, so doesn’t remember when the girl left.’

‘Well that’s a damn puzzle.’

‘Wait ‘til you hear the statement.’ Slynt fished an old notebook from the pocket of his greatcoat. ‘Miss Poole answered the door to a stranger about six o’clock. He was of average height, with a heavy black coat, a long beard, and possibly spectacles. He said he had urgent business with Mr Baratheon, so she showed him through to the gun room. That’s where Mr Baratheon generally received guests when he was at the lodge.

Now, Miss Poole says that something about the man made her uneasy, so she went upstairs to fetch her mistress. The two of them arrived outside the gun room just in time to see the door slam shut. They heard voices raised in argument, then a single gunshot. The door had been locked from the inside, so the two ladies ran around to the window. By the time they got there, the window was open and the man was gone. That’s all of it. The lady’s story checks with hers in every respect.’

‘Seems straightforward enough,’ I commented. ‘We have to find the bearded fellow.’

He gave me a withering look. ‘I suppose the little man’s the brains of the operation. The bearded fellow, indeed! We have to find out who was behind the disguise. And this maid! Are we looking for an accomplice on the run, or a second victim? Could be as she recognised the killer behind the false beard.’

I felt a little foolish, but reassured myself that the terms of the investigation were the same. We were still searching for a mysterious stranger. I asked the Inspector what his next move would be.

‘Make some enquiries around the family. Find out if there was a will, and who stood to gain. Sooner or later, all these murders among rich folks come down to money. ‘

‘Did you wire to Joffrey in London?’

‘The son? Yes, he’s on his way back now. We’re trying to track down the brothers too. Stannis and… who was the other one?’

‘Renly. He’s away shooting in the States, so I understand. Not _shooting,’_ I explained, remembering that I was talking to a policeman. ‘He’s in the movies.’

‘Never cared for that sort of thing, personally,’ sniffed Slynt. Then I saw his dark little eyes gleam with suspicion. ‘You and your brother in the Grey Wolf, are you? Planning to stick around for a while? Heard you had a bit of a go at the old man yourself.’

I didn’t care for his tone. ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ I said, attempting an icy hauteur. ‘Would you object to me going in and talking with Mrs Baratheon?’

‘Don’t see the harm,’ said Slynt. ‘She’s in a bit of a state, mind. Go gently. Try not to shoot anyone.’

Slynt was known to treat witnesses about as delicately as he treated his meals, so I didn’t give that too much mind. The constable on guard duty opened the door for me, and I found Sansa at her dressing table, trying to repair her make-up.

‘I’m very sorry to intrude-‘ I began.

‘Oh, Captain,’ she said with as much grace as could be expected. ‘You’re not intruding. There’s no-one to announce guests, now that Jeyne’s gone. Isn’t it terrible though? Poor Robert. And poor Joff. He’ll be devastated when he hears.’

‘They say he’s on his way back now,’ I reassured her. ‘He’s fortunate to have such a brave wife, to comfort him,’ I added with a smile. She gave an uncertain nod, but I could see a glistening of tears in her eyes.

‘Look,’ I began, seating myself near the door,’if it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me what happened last night? Is it true, about the stranger coming to the house?’

‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘He looked absurd, like a cartoon. That’s what struck me. I only caught a glimpse, mind. Jeyne was the one who got a good look at him.’ I remembered the Inspector’s words and felt a definite foreboding.

‘Did he have any other notable features?’ I tried. ‘An accent, perhaps?’

‘I really couldn’t say,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘We could hear the shouting through the door, but couldn’t really make out details.’ She gave me a sheepish look. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’

‘It’s quite alright,’ I said. ‘What about Jeyne? Was she a good housemaid? Reliable, and so on?’

‘I suppose,’ said Sansa, her brow wrinkling quite prettily. ‘She was only temporary, you know. For the shooting season. Gendry’s the only person who spends all year on the estate.’

‘Do you know anything about the girl’s background?’

‘Not really,’ admitted Sansa. ‘The agency said she had good references. She didn’t talk about herself very much. Are they really saying that she was a part of-’

I reached out and took her hands, giving them a squeeze. ‘It’s alright,’ I said soothingly. ‘Don’t fret about it. The police will get to the bottom of this.’

‘I hope so,’ was all she said, looking glum. ‘They were asking me a lot of questions about Robert. Whether he had any enemies.’

‘Did he?’

‘Of course. He took pride in it. Said it was the cost of doing business.’ She heaved a sigh.

Not for the first time, I thought how lonely it must be, being in your childhood home with all your family gone, and Christmas just around the corner.

‘Do you still miss them?’ I asked. I hadn’t entirely meant to say it out loud, but she seemed to glean my meaning.

‘I try not to think about them,’ she said. ‘All gone. Except Arya, and she and I never got on.’

It was almost enough to make you believe in the Stark Curse. I apologised again for intruding and made to leave. On the way out I couldn’t resist looking past the police rope into the gun room.

Robert’s body had already been moved, but I could see a deep red stain on the back of his armchair – a single shot to the head, I figured, most likely from close range. Guns were one thing I knew better than Tyrion – but what use was that, in a room full of potential murder weapons? Presumably they’d all be covered in fingerprints, from the shoot. And how would the police know if a single weapon was missing?

On a whim, I slipped around the back of the house to the lawn, to see if there was any clue underneath the window the killer had used to escape. I couldn’t see anything of note, just a lot of heavily trampled grass.

I made way back to the Wolf in a puzzled frame of mind. Tyrion was up and about, sitting in the armchair wrapped in his dressing gown, but he still looked weak. I told him everything I’d learned.

I was looking forward to hearing my brother’s thoughts, but we were interrupted by the arrival of our nephew, fresh off the first morning train from London.

 

*

Joff looked like he hadn’t slept. He didn’t exactly seem overcome with grief, just a certain petulance, as if he suspected the whole thing had been put on to inconvenience him.

‘They asked me where I was at the time of the killing. As if I was a suspect! Why would anyone think I killed Father? I rather liked the old man. He taught me to hunt, he didn’t nag me about my studies the way Mother does-‘

‘Your mother just wants you to take some responsibility, Joff,’ I said wearily.

‘Responsible, like you?’ he sneered. ‘Perhaps I should make my way to Tommen’s school and see if he needs a new fag.’

Not for the first time, I had to restrain the impulse to slap the smirk off his face.

‘The police need to eliminate you from their investigation, Joffrey,’ put in Tyrion. ‘It’s perfectly routine.’

‘Perfectly impertinent, more like. I told them everything. I took the five o’clock train back, and arrived at my club just before ten. They can check it with the doorman.’ He pouted. ‘I hear they gave Sansa a grilling too. They’re insulting the bereaved, when they should be finding this man who came to the door.’

‘Slynt thinks it may have been someone wearing a disguise,’ I said.

‘Whoever it was – I want them found.’ He looked at Tyrion. ‘Uncle, I’ve never thought much of your little hobby, but you can prove your worth to the family now. Do what the police aren’t doing. Find this killer. Lannisters pay their debts.’

‘Very well,’ said Tyrion with solemnity. ‘I accept.’

‘What do you make of that?’ I asked, when the youth was gone.

My brother gave an expansive shrug. ‘A mystery of mysteries, and, alas, I am still not strong enough to travel. Go in my stead, Jaime. Talk to the family. There, at least, I think our dear friend Slynt had the right idea.’

 

*

Stannis was first on my list. He spent most of the year living in an old wreck of a house on the coast, but had come up to Moleston to be near his daughter. He’d taken a room in the Lantern Inn there, and – after a mostly one-sided telephone conversation – agreed to meet me in the saloon.

He cut straight to the quick, before I’d even ordered a drink. ‘Am I a suspect, then?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve already had that toad Slynt here.’ He exhaled forcefully. ‘I disliked my brother, I make no bones about it. He’s spent twenty years prattling and drinking, and people love him for it. He gave Stormland and its estates to Renly, when it should by rights have been mine. It’s not like that popinjay needs another source of income. And he treated my daughter like a servant who’d trespassed above stairs. None of that means I’d kill my own blood.’

‘You and your daughter left the lodge very early,’ I tried. ‘Where did you go after that?’

‘I had plans,’ he said opaquely. ‘I’ve heard all of Robert’s jokes at least five thousand times already, at any rate. I didn’t think we’d miss much by leaving.’

‘So, at the time of the murder-‘

‘At the time of the murder, we were some distance away, doing something else. That’s all you and your brother need to know.’

It wasn’t anything close to an alibi, but I knew I wouldn’t get much more out of the man.

I had one other port of call in Moleston. The redbrick school building wasn’t hard to find, and I arrived just after lessons had finished. A couple of the boys loafing outside directed me to Shireen’s classroom.

I found her wiping A-B-Cs off the blackboard. She was wearing a frankly sensible dress, although the charcoal grey colour showed the chalk marks.

‘Captain Lannister? What on earth brings you here?’

‘Teaching the alphabet, eh?’ I asked conversationally. ‘Working with the young ones must be challenging.’

‘Challenging,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘One of my boys keeps pronouncing ‘knight’ with a hard G. I like the work, though.’ She put her brush down. ‘I’m sure you didn’t come to here to enquire about my career. Is this about Robert?’

‘Tyrion’s taken the case on,’ I said. ‘I’m just exploring a few things on his behalf.’

She lowered herself into her chair, and I sat on one of the wooden desks facing her. ‘I really don’t know how I can help. Papa and I left hours before anything happened.’

‘Why _did_ you leave so early?’ I asked. ‘It was a decent rout, even if Robert was being impossible.’

‘Papa had another engagement that night. The kind you don’t necessarily want to share with the whole world.’

‘You must tell me,’ I said in serious tones. ‘The police already know he disliked Robert.’

Shireen folded her arms and gave me a long stare. ‘Very well, then. He wanted me to meet his new mistress, so we could all play at Happy Families. He’d planned a theatre outing for us all.’

I was a little surprised. Stannis’ marriage was famously cold, but I’d always assumed Selyse would be more likely to stray than him.

‘Theatre?’ I said curiously.

‘The House of Black and White are in town,’ she said, retrieving a poster from her desk.

I studied it sceptically. I’d heard of the troupe. The runaway Stark girl had spent some time with them. To me it looked like a load of pretentious rot. Whenever I voiced this opinion around Tyrion, he generally shook his head and called me a hopeless philistine.

‘Can anyone confirm that you were there?’

‘The theatre might have records of our reservations.’ She gave a little smile. ‘Assuming Papa didn’t book seats as Mr and Mrs Smith, plus one.’

I told myself that I’d check up on that, but in truth, I’d already lost my enthusiasm. I tried a different tack.

‘You weren’t fond of Robert either, though?’

‘Well, no. I wouldn’t say I _liked_ him. Everyone has a relative like that, don’t they? Only Robert was more of _that relative_ than most of those relatives.’ She paused. ‘Sorry. That wasn’t a very well-constructed sentence, was it? My boys would laugh.’


	3. The Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Means, motive, opportunity.

When I returned to the inn, I was surprised to see my brother seated, and entertaining a young lady. They broke off their conversation and turned to me as I entered.

‘Oh. How do you do?’ I said uncertainly, and looked to Tyrion for guidance.

‘Ah, my brother returns. Jaime. Let me introduce you to someone who ought to be familiar to you. This is Jeyne Poole. Miss Poole, meet Captain Lannister.’

‘Jeyne Poole,’ I repeated dumbly. She was a similar height and build to the maid we’d seen, although her eyes were brown, where the other’s had been light. 'It's a pleasure.'

‘Miss Poole was telling me of the peculiar circumstances surrounding her employment at Stark Lodge. Please, madam, tell your story once again.’

‘Well, that’s just it, sir. I was never employed there. I went up for the interview, and met the lady of the house. She said there’d been a terrible mix-up and they weren’t having any shooting this year. She paid me off for the whole month – very kind, I thought - and asked me not to report it back to the agency. She said she didn’t them to start thinking of her as an unreliable client.’

I was staggered. If this was Jeyne Poole, who on earth was the disappearing maid who’d let the killer in?

‘I made enquiries while you were away,’ explained Tyrion, when the girl had gone. ‘The agency told me the story we already knew, word-for-word. But I persisted until they gave me the girl’s family contact number and – what do you know? – her parents told me she never left for Winterfell at all. It was not so difficult to persuade her to come up and meet me.’

‘All very strange,’ I admitted, ‘but surely we’re no further forward. The missing maid isn’t really a maid, but she’s still missing.’

‘Curious, is it not, that the false Jeyne and the Lady Sansa were together at the exact moment of the shooting?’

‘Hmm. I see what you’re driving at,’ I said. ‘They give each other an alibi, but neither one is confirmed by a third party. Good Lord! You don’t suppose-’

‘What?’ demanded Tyrion, eyes gleaming.

‘Well, look,’ I stuttered. ‘This girl came out of nowhere, and disappeared into thin air. She was only seen at the Lodge for the few weeks of her engagement. She never existed, Tyrion! Sansa and Jeyne Poole are the same person!’

‘Jaime,’ said my brother reverently, ‘You are remarkable.’

I tried not to look pleased with myself.

‘Remarkable in your foolishness!’ He went on. ‘That two women could live in this house for weeks and attract no suspicion that they were _never_ seen together? That each of them could face the outside world for only half the time? Utterly preposterous! Who could ever think such a thing was even possible?’

‘No, brother,’ he said, calming down. ‘The solution of this case will not be so fanciful. I think my appetite may be returning – alas, too late for the grouse. Let’s see what this place offers by way of lunch.’

 

*

We were dining downstairs, when we had a quite unexpected visit from Sansa Baratheon, now clad in dark grey and wearing a hat with a veil. We both stood up hurriedly.

‘Hello again, Captain,’ she said with a wan smile. ‘And Mister L- I’m sorry _, Tyrion_.’

‘Enchanted to see you again, my lady,’ said Tyrion formally. ‘And may I offer my deepest commiserations for your misfortune.’

‘I… I can’t stay long,’ she said. I noticed she was twisting a handkerchief in her fingers. ‘Joff will be angry if he thinks I’ve been talking to you.’

‘Why on earth would that make him angry?’ I asked, suspecting that the answer wouldn’t be to my liking.

‘I didn’t tell you the whole truth,’ she said, looking agonised. ‘I was protecting my husband. Joffrey says he caught the five o’clock train. He meant to – but he was never very punctual. He never even left the house until well after five. I presume he caught the next train at half-past-six.’

‘I say,’ I ventured. ‘That means he could have-‘ Tyrion held up a hand to silence me.

‘Why do you tell us this now, Sansa?’ he said gently.

‘I _know_ Joffrey isn’t the killer,’ she said simply. ‘The police should never have questioned him. But little lies call down big lies, don’t they?’ Her hands wrung together in her lap. ‘If the killer is to be found, you must know the truth about everyone’s movements.’

‘That is so, madam,’ said Tyrion softly. ‘Thank you.’

She looked around nervously, and left without another word.

‘What on earth was that about?’ I studied my brother’s face for some reaction. ‘If it’s true, it means he _wasn’t_ on a train headed for London at six.’

‘Curious that she was wearing a veil,’ my brother commented. ‘A widow, of course, must observe mourning, but a mere daughter-in-law? And she seemed most afraid of angering our nephew. Men who have been bitten are the ones who most fear snakes.’

It came to me in a flash. ‘The veil was hiding bruises,’ I breathed. ‘That little _swine_.’

‘Jaime, we must talk to Joffrey once again. And this time, it should be in the presence of Inspector Slynt. Can I give you the task of summoning him?’

‘It’d be my pleasure,’ I said baldly.

Slynt was in the police station across the road, and didn’t seem at all surprised when I outlined the situation. ‘Lying about his whereabouts, eh? Well, here’s a bit of news for you. We tracked down the old man’s will. I’ll give you three guesses who the main beneficiary was.’

I telephoned the lodge to get Joffrey down, without giving any specifics. He turned up at our room half an hour late and looking decidedly impatient.

‘You wanted to see me, uncle? Have you got some progress to report?’ He spotted Slynt stood in the corner of with two uniformed policemen, and gave a start. ‘What are they doing here?’

‘Sit down, Mr Baratheon,’ said Slynt calmly. Joffrey obeyed, but very uneasily.

‘Joffrey,’ I said sternly, ‘Sansa came to see us. She tells us you _weren’t_ on the five o’clock train, as you claimed.’

‘Why would Sansa say that?’ frowned the lad. ‘She must be confused, or emotional. Women are like that. I was on that train, I swear!’

‘But,’ retorted Tyrion, ‘the five o’clock would have got you to London by half past eight.’ He produced a railway timetable from his pocket and flourished it triumphantly. ‘The doorman at your club didn’t sign you in until almost ten. Can you account for your whereabouts in the intervening time?’

Joffrey gaped at us. ‘I… I… no. I…’

I had to marvel at Tyrion’s cleverness. He had the boy dead to rights. Slynt stepped forward with a grim expression. ‘I’m sorry about this, Mr Baratheon, but I must ask you to accompany me to the station for further questioning.’ Joffrey let himself be walked out by the constables, pale as a ghost.

‘Well that’s that, then,’ I declared, when the room was clear. ‘A clear motive and all. Well done! A murder solved from the sickbed!’

My brother gave me an impatient look. ‘The murder is _not_ solved, Jaime. It would give me no displeasure to send our odious nephew to prison... but he was not lying to us. Did you see the fear in his eyes?’

‘ _Not_ lying? You mean he _was_ on the five o’clock? If he had an alibi for the time gap, why wouldn’t he tell us?’

‘Perhaps if the alibi was something that made his position even worse,’ said Tyrion thoughtfully. ‘And we have learned something else. The Lady Sansa told us an untruth.’

‘So?’ I demanded.

‘We’ll see, Jaime,’ he said. ‘I think the time has come for Tyrion Lannister to intervene personally in this case.’ He sneezed violently. ‘Ah… but perhaps… first thing in the morning.’

 

*

As it turned out, we were woken up in the small hours by one of Slynt’s constables. Joffrey wanted to talk, it seemed – but only to us.

The holding cell at the station was grey and austere. Joff had been stripped down to his vest and trousers and looked like he’d been crying. I felt a stab of pity for the boy, but quelled it by thinking his knuckles and Sansa’s pretty face.

‘I was on the five o’clock,’ he said reproachfully. ‘But I didn’t go straight to my club. I had a meeting - with Petyr Baelish.'

‘The moneylender?’ I ejaculated.

‘Yes.’ The lad looked sullen. ‘I’ve made some ill-timed investments, that’s all. I needed some money to cover a few debts.’

‘ _That_ I already knew,’ declared Tyrion. ‘Lady Sansa had to give up the car, and you’ve postponed rebuilding the old house. You approached your father, didn’t you?’

‘Of course!’ I said. ‘That’s what the two of you were arguing about at the lodge.’

‘That’s right. And he refused me! He’s never refused me money before. Even when I’ve been… imprudent.’

‘And that’s what you were ashamed to tell us? Damn it all, Joffrey, a man is dead!’

‘Calm down, Jaime,’ warned Tyrion. ‘It’s not just a matter of pride. The boy didn’t tell us about his debts because it would draw attention to an uncomfortable truth. We already know he is the main beneficiary of his father’s will. He desperately needed money, and his father’s death will bring him a great deal of that. And his only alibi, a shady moneylender? He starts to look very guilty indeed.’

‘Thank you, Joffrey,’ he added. ‘We will talk to the Inspector.’

Slynt had been waiting outside, and had apparently heard every word. ‘So he did have an alibi? What’s it all about, then?’

‘Inspector, you must release the boy. If I could ask you one more question – who else stood to benefit from the will?’

‘That gamekeeper was getting a tidy sum,’ he said. ‘Nobody else of any interest. Not a penny for that sister of yours,’ he added with a leer. I tried to ignore him.

‘Curious how the body works,’ said Tyrion thoughtfully. ‘Being back out here, exercising my mind has done more for my recovery than any amount of bed rest. I think Tyrion Lannister is ready to take the reins once again. Inspector, I believe I know who murdered Robert Baratheon. May I ask your indulgence in setting up a little drama?’


	4. The Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round up the usual suspects.

It was seven the next morning. The sky outside was a deep blue, lightening only slowly, and the house was wreathed in dense morning mist.

Slynt and his men had done their part, and all of the involved parties had been assembled in the late Robert Baratheon’s gun room.

Joffrey and Sansa were seated side-by-side on a chaise-longue, holding each others’ hands for support. Stannis was perched on a chair, grinding his teeth in frustration. He’d been taken in unwillingly, under threat of arrest. Shireen was next to him, looking deeply worried, with her hands clutching her knees. Gendry was stood in a corner with his hands behind his back.

I was on the window side of the room, flanked by two of Slynt’s constables. The Inspector himself stood blocking the doorway. Tyrion had dressed up in his finest, and was pacing the room solemnly, revelling in being the centre of attention. All at once, he stopped in his tracks and held up a hand.

‘Firstly, I wish to thank you all for coming. We are to here to establish the identity of Robert Baratheon’s murderer. The dead man was not universally liked, to be sure; he used his money to control, and to hurt. All of you had reasons to want him gone.’

‘Gendry. You were angry at the old man – your father! - because he treated you poorly, and refused to forward you the money that would have enabled you to marry the woman you loved. Stannis. You envied your brother’s popularity, and resented him for taking the family’s estates out of your hands. That meant your daughter had to go out and earn a humble living as a schoolteacher, just a few miles from one of Robert’s vast estates. That is something both you and her might resent. And Joffrey – you would have the clearest motive of all. You were the chief beneficiary of his will, and you had accumulated great debts, debts your father refused to help you with. An excellent motive for murder.’

‘But we all _know_ who killed Father,’ cried the boy. ‘The bearded man, with the connivance of the maid! Why the blazes aren’t you out looking for them, instead of wasting our time?’

‘The bearded man,’ said Tyrion quietly. ‘And tell me, who described this bearded fellow to us? He was witnessed by two people; Mrs Baratheon, and Miss Poole. The bearded fellow _did not exist.’_

‘But that’s what I said,’ I protested.

‘Jaime,’ said Tyrion, ‘I will thank you for not interrupting me. You saw part of the problem, it is true, but your conclusion was incorrect.’

‘But the bearded man _was_ there,’ protested Sansa. ‘As I said, I caught a glimpse of him going into the gun room.’

Tyrion just smiled.

‘The police are even now hunting for the woman who posed as Jeyne Poole. With no disrespect to Inspector Slynt and his men – I think they will be unsuccessful. I think the woman in question is a veritable mistress of disguise, and she is long gone.’

He stopped, and turned to face Sansa.

‘Jeyne Poole was, in fact, Arya Stark.’

‘As they say, Mrs Baratheon - or, can I say, Miss Stark? – _the north remembers_. The Inspector thinks that all crimes come down to money – but some things are more important than money, no? Your sister has spent time on the stage, but I fear you are a better actor than she will ever be. You played the doting wife to that vicious boy for years, never letting anyone suspect that you still nursed a desire to avenge your family. You waited until he was here, in your ancestral home, before putting things in motion. To kill Joffrey himself – pah! It would be better than he deserves, yes? You wanted Joffrey to know the horror you have known. You wanted him to be robbed of everything he loved, and imprisoned, as you were imprisoned in marriage to him.’

‘So you made contact with your talented sister, so used to wearing different faces. The feud between you was no more than a convenient fiction. You installed Arya here in the guise of a house maid, and the two of you plotted to have Joffrey sent down for the murder of his beloved father! The boy was the perfect suspect. He had a clear motive, and everyone knows that he is capable of any vile deed – who would believe his pleas of innocence? This tale of a stranger in a black coat with an enormous beard. It would be precisely the kind of idiotic disguise that would be chosen by a fool like Joffrey.’

‘Arya escaped once she had given her statement, so setting the fable in motion. The part of Jeyne Poole was no longer needed. You, Miss Stark, stayed behind, and most cleverly moved your husband into position to take the fall. You made only a few tiny errors – a lesser man than Tyrion Lannister may not have detected them.’ He turned around face Slynt, and gave a shrug. ‘Inspector, I give you the murderer.’

‘You’re quite wrong,’ said Sansa at last.

‘Of course he is!’ sputtered Joffrey. ‘Good god, I’ve never heard such a deranged fantasy in all my life! I’ve half a mind to call grandfather and see what he thinks of all this!’

‘Quite wrong,’ repeated Sansa. ‘Arya fired the shot, not me.’

There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to digest this revelation.

‘It’s not true,’ muttered Gendry. ‘It can’t be. She wouldn't-’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Sansa, turning to him with pity in her eyes. ‘She did care about you, truly. Some things can’t be helped.’

Joffrey’s expression twisted, from disbelief and shock into rage. ‘You LIAR!’ he hissed, drawing back from Sansa in disgust. He got to his feet, and backed up to the wall, eyes still fixed on her.

Fortunately, my brother had tipped me off as to what might happen. I darted across the room and grabbed Joffrey’s arms just as he snatched a revolver down from the rack on the wall. The gun went spinning away across the floor. Injury or no, I was stronger than my fool of a nephew.

‘Easy, Joffrey,’ I grunted as I wrestled his arms behind his back. ‘No need for anyone else to get hurt.’ I handed him over to one of the constables.

Slynt stepped in, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Well then, Mrs Baratheon. By your own confession, you’re an accessory to a murder, not to mention falsifying evidence and obstructing a police investigation. Let’s be having you.’

Sansa turned to Tyrion as she was being led out of the room. ‘I’ve heard that Lannisters pay their debts,’ she said dully. ‘Do you consider _this_ a fair accounting? I rot in jail, and _he_ walks free?’

I couldn’t properly see Tyrion’s expression.

‘You are responsible for the death of an innocent man,’ he said after some thought. ‘Oh, some will say Robert was no innocent, but if we applied that standard, murder would be no crime at all. I do regret how life has turned out for you, but… think of your father, Sansa. You plotted the murder of his closest friend in life. Is that a revenge he would be grateful for?’

She was hustled out of the room before she could speak further.

‘The rest of you are free to go,’said Slynt. ‘We’ll be contacting you all for closing statements.’ 

Tyrion and I remained in the room long after the others were gone. He was turning the weapon Joffrey had lunged for over and over in his hands.

‘She’s quite right,’ said Tyrion. ‘A detective finds things that are missing, mends things that are broken, tries to make the world well. But what use is that, when there are people whose lives are a far greater crime than any murder? Why should I not take up the revolver myself, and take justice into my own hands?’

I knew he was prone to depressive fugues of this kind. It was time to be the older brother.

‘Because I’d box your ears if you tried anything as silly as that,’ I said briskly. ‘Now come on. Let’s get on that train, get home, and return a few missing cats to their owners.’

He snorted, and tossed the weapon down.

‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Despondency is not a luxury that the great Tyrion Lannister can afford, while criminals still plague the world. Come, Jaime!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Matinée idol Renly Baratheon is found murdered in his dressing room, and blame falls on a certain female admirer.


End file.
